Siblings
by The Trojanhorse
Summary: Aragorn reflects on his relationship with Arwen


Siblings

Rating; R; not really graphic, but better safe than sorry, eh?

Pairing; Aragorn/Halbarad

Reviews; God yes! Who doesn't want them?

Disclaimer; Absolutely everything belongs to Tolkien, god that he is.

Warning; Extremely angsty.

A/N; denotes a flashback. I've had the vague idea for this in the back of my head for a long time. The relationship between Aragorn and Arwen always seemed squicky to me, considering they were foster siblings as well as cousins, but it did make sense in a long term 'improving the race' sense. Then a random Aragorn/Halbarad scene popped into my head, and bingo, suddenly I had somewhere to use my Aragorn and Arwen ideas. Also, I was sick of slash fics that made Arwen out to be a total bitch.

_My name is Aragorn, Elessar the Elfstone, King of Gondor and Arnor, and I am a warrior by training and instinct. The pen is never my first choice of a weapon, but tonight I cannot sleep, and I feel a strange compulsion to set down some form of words, that I might tell what has troubled my heart for so long. Arwen I can tell of my private heartache, and have done, many times, but since Legolas's departure her mortality has hung heavy on her shoulders, and I deem she has troubles enough of her own. So I will not worry my gentle sister this night. _

_No doubt I should begin, if I am to attempt to tell this sorry story. This is the truth about the much-celebrated marriage between Arwen and Aragorn. The loremasters' version is all very well, and beautifully poetic as well, but it is not the true version of events. For a start, the love between Arwen and I is as brother and sister, which is how it should be, for we are foster-siblings as well as distant cousins, rather than as two lovers. _

_When I was a young man, Arwen came to Imladris from Lorien, where she had been dwelling with her mother's people, and according to the scrolls, we met in a garden, where I paid her many extravagant compliments and fell dramatically in love with her. Not so. She sought me out, having been bestowed, as is the elven wont, with a vision of the future which told her that for Middle Earth to survive, the two branches of the Half-elven should be reunited. This vision filled her with dread, for as she knew, the only way that this would come about was if she married me and bore my heirs. It is true that I had never met her before, but she knew of me, and it made her weep that she should have to do this. But nevertheless, she sent for me._

_We met in the garden, and she explained, explained the sacrifice we would have to make for the sake of all the Free Peoples. I agreed to her proposal. What else should I have done? Young as I was, I knew my duty. _

_The time of the elves is ending, Elrond once said. The race of Men is weak, he said. He was right. But this does not have to be the case. The blood of Numenor runs in my veins, and akin to it is the blood of Elrond, that Arwen carries. She has born children that carry both, and who shall grow to strengthen and bolster the Men of Middle Earth. This is the only chance to save a failing nation, and we have taken it._

_I the descendant of Isildur and Elendil, and thus Elros himself, had to marry Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of her people, and daughter of Elrond. _

_We both forewent the privilege of marriage for love's sake, and announced our engagement. _

_The Lord Elrond was not impressed, and he sent me away. Alas that his legendary foresight was less than his daughter's that day! He who had concerned himself with the fate of Middle Earth for many long years, had become a master of lore and one of the Wise, could not see that it was only in the uniting of the ancient house of the peredhil that Middle Earth could have a future. _

_We have dwelt together in Minas Tirith as King and Queen, my sister and I. We have had many daughters, and a fine son, Eldarion, to carry on the Telcontar line. Arwen's heart lay with Legolas of Mirkwood, until he departed for the Havens, and many a tryst they had while he remained here. He was truly her husband, and I felt happiness in their contentment. For my own part, I have taken no illicit lover. There was only ever one who held my heart, and he knew it, but did not return my love. There. A sad romance fit only for the scrolls, I dare say, but still the truth. _

Aragorn set down his pen and sighed. He blew carefully on the ink to dry it, watching as it soaked a little into the paper, and its wet shine dimmed, then rolled the scroll up and placed it gently on the shelf. It was late, and now that he had said what he needed to say, he felt tired.

He stretched and yawned, then ambled out of the room and in the direction of his bedchamber, thoughts of that lost love still running through his head. And as he settled down to sleep minutes later, memory came back to haunt him.

Aragorn sighed. His friend, Halbarad, supposedly out scouting for game, had not returned last night. And according to one of the other Rangers, he had taken no supplies and was not equipped for an overnight stay in the forest.

Halbarad, fine Ranger though he was, had probably got lost. It was always a possibility when walking the valley of the Withywindle, although Aragorn himself had never had that difficulty. Anyway, it was now his duty to find his friend. In the dawn light, the young Ranger carefully scanned the ground for Halbarad's tracks. There they were, but further on . . . Aragorn frowned. They were joined by two sets of deep orc tracks. Aragorn kept walking, one eye firmly on the tracks in the muddy grass.

And here . . . the bodies of the orcs lay, each one neatly decapitated, surrounded by gouts of its foul blood. Aragorn smiled grimly, Halbarad was no green young one, but then his eyes were caught by the tracks. One foot made heavier marks than the other. Halbarad was limping. And he was moving slower as well. Aragorn sped up. A wounded Ranger was game for any wandering trouble in this forest, and Halbarad had already spent one night in the wood.

When he found him, it was late afternoon. Halbarad had snuggled in under an overhanging bank and appeared to be sleeping. Gently Aragorn touched his friend's hands, then his cheek. Cold. Hypothermia, a Ranger's worst enemy in the northern forests.  Sighing again, for he had wanted to make it back to the others by nightfall, he undid his bedroll. There was only one way to get Halbarad back onto his feet. Struggling slightly with the heavy body of his slumbering friend, Aragorn managed to get him into the bedroll and slide in beside him. It was hard going; the bedroll had definitely only been made for one, but for Halbarad to recover he was going to have to warm up, and this was the best way to do it. Aragorn wrapped his limbs around the sparse frame of the other Ranger and did his best to get comfortable. This was going to take a while, so he might as well attempt some sleep at the same time.

He woke some hours later, the gloom of the forest barely lightened by what little sunlight was left. Halbarad was still asleep, but he was warmer now. Aragorn found he was enjoying the feel of his friend's body under his hands, and not just for the warmth. Experimentally, he slid his hands down from Halbarad's torso to his hips. Their bodies were pressed together now, restrained by the tightness of the bedroll. A sudden knowledge bloomed in Aragorn.

There weren't female Rangers; the women of Arnor stayed out of sight for the most part, didn't accompany the men on their quests, and so he had not had the opportunity to gain much experience with women. But neither had he ever hitherto considered the possibility of seeing a man in that light.

_No! No! It would ruin our friendship were I to think like this . . . _

Halbarad woke a few seconds later. They stared at each other.

'Oh, er, hello Aragorn.'

'Hello, Halbarad. Feeling warmer now?' Aragorn said. He at least was definitely feeling warmer.

'Yes.'

'Good'

'Why were you following me?'

'Too long had passed since you left, and I was told you had taken no supplies with you. Why were you gone so long? You told me you were only scouting for game!'

Halbarad's eyes dropped. 'Orcs' he said shortly.

'I saw their bodies. You did well to slay them. Are you hurt?' Aragorn asked worriedly, thinking of the limp he had read in the tracks.

'I think I may have strained a muscle. Nothing serious.'

'Nevertheless, I should look at it.' said Aragorn.

Neither of the young Rangers made to move, and Aragorn's arms stayed firmly about Halbarad's slim hips. Two pairs of grey eyes met, and each saw in the other a hint of puzzlement, curiosity, and a flash of desire.

'Aragorn . . .'

'Mmmm?'

There were other growing . . . urgencies in the situation as well.

Halbarad moistened his lips nervously, then reached up to brush a strand of Aragorn's hair out of the way of his eyes. The gentle touch was too tempting. Aragorn leant forward and gently claimed Halbarad's mouth, tightening his grip about the other's waist. For a minute Halbarad was lost, then his mind returned and he pushed back.

'Aragorn, this is wrong, we were warned about this . . .'

'Very obliquely. I do not think the elders ever actually _said_ anything . . .'

'But still.'

'Does it feel wrong?'

'Well . . . no,'

Without warning Aragorn pulled Halbarad into another stirring kiss. Halbarad gasped in shock and pleasure, giving Aragorn the opportunity to slide his tongue inside.

The pair shifted on the hard ground, Aragorn pulling his friend in closer to him and sliding rough hands down his back, then seeking for the fastener of his breeches.

But Halbarad pulled back again.

'Aragorn, we, we can't.'

'Halbarad . . .' Aragorn's voice was husky with desire.

'I'm sorry.' And there was real regret in Halbarad's voice as he struggled out of the bedroll. 'We should get back.'

Aragorn sighed and got up as well, rolling the bedding up and tying it again. He reached out a hand and caught Halbarad's face under the chin, stilling him for a moment.

'You have no need to be sorry.' he whispered. 'It is I who should regret. I will not force myself upon you, my friend.' Then he let his hand drop. 'Come,' he said in a louder voice. 'We must head back to our friends.' They strode off into the forest.

Aragorn ground his teeth together, unable to cry out for fear of waking Arwen, who slept in the bed next to him. He curled up tightly, willing himself to think of something else, anything else. But another memory rose unbidden from the recesses of his mind.

Aragorn could not disguise his happiness that Halbarad had come with the company of Dunedain. But this put even more strain, more stress upon him. He retired to his tent early, determined to think hard about the fate of the world, and not about a foolish teenage desire. A rustling disturbed his meditations; Halbarad was brushing aside the tent flap.

'May I come in?'

'Certainly.' said Aragorn. Halbarad edged inside, and stood awkwardly near the door. Something was making him ill at ease. _Something other than the nearness of the Enemy._ Aragorn added to himself. He wondered if perhaps it _was_ nothing more than the thoughts of battle to come, but dismissed that. Halbarad was brave, and a veteran of many a battle in the north. He would not act so unsure were it only the thought of violence that troubled him. Aragorn moved to make room on the camp bed, gesturing for Halbarad to sit down also; not surprisingly, there were no chairs in the cramped space. Halbarad sat, and Aragorn found himself studying the way his friend held himself; stiff, upright, hands in his lap. Definitely nervous.

'I am glad that those of the North still support me, and that you are amongst them.' Aragorn said, thinking to probe and find the cause of Halbarad's unease.

'We would die for you, my lord.' Halbarad said.

'Please, call me Estel, or Aragorn, at least in recognition of childhood friendship' said Aragorn, wincing slightly at such formality from his friend. Halbarad fidgeted for a while, and then met Aragorn's eyes, and moved his hand tentatively towards him on the bed. 'We were almost more than friends . . . at one time.'

Aragorn closed his eyes as memory swept him.

'That was . . . a long time ago. Things have changed.'

'They have changed, indeed, but not that much. Once, I . . . refused you. A mistake. I would take that back now.' Halbarad's grey eyes were worried looking, but he edged closer on the bed, his hand reaching for Aragorn's.

'You are troubled. This is a great burden to bear, the command of so few against such a cursed multitude. You need respite. Let me help you.' said Halbarad quietly.

Still Aragorn held back, until Halbarad lifted his hand and brushed back an errant strand of the other's hair, in a gesture that had burned itself into Aragorn's memory. The next action was so automatic that he didn't realise he had kissed his friend until he felt a body underneath him, he had pushed them both down onto the bed, he on top of Halbarad. This was all he had ever wanted, but something was wrong. Halbarad was, was, acquiescing, rather than participating. This was too easy. Something nagged at him, and he relinquished his friend, sitting back up.

'My lord, is there something wrong-'

And that was it. 'My lord.' _My lord._

Halbarad was doing this for some misplaced sense of duty, not for love, or even desire.

'Sweet Elbereth, Halbarad, what are you doing?' Aragorn carefully got off the bed and backed away.

'My lord, I-'

'I asked you to call me Aragorn, for the sake of our friendship, but still you call me lord. Halbarad, this is wrong. I, I would not be that kind of commander.'

Halbarad, still lying on the bed, gazed up at Aragorn. 'I give myself freely-'

'I cannot do this. It would be rape, as you have no true desire for it.' Aragorn studied his friend's face, seeing a degree of relief, before the sense of responsibility kicked back in.

'Not rape'

'Then it would be prostitution! I cannot do that to you!' Aragorn threw up his hands in despair

'My lor- Aragorn, we are all entitled to a little comfort in dark times, you more so than any of us.' He sat up.

'Do you think I am so weak willed? Do symptoms of my needs show so blatantly upon my person? Or is the length of time since I lay with another tallied by the common soldiery, and they have decided it is time I found myself another bedmate lest I become unfit for duty.' Aragorn spat and cursed as he paced the tent's confined space, but at the same time mentally thanking the Valar that his tent was far enough from that of the men that he might not be overheard.

Halbarad tried to catch his arm, to calm him down, but he wrenched it away and cried;

'By all the Valar, Halbarad, do not tempt me with your body when I may not have your heart!'

Aragorn woke. It was morning, and sunlight arced into the room through a gap in the drapes. Arwen was stood over him, shaking his shoulder gently.

'Estel? Estel, dear brother, whatever is the matter?' she said, a look of concern upon her lovely features.

Aragorn forced a smile. 'Nothing, love. A bad dream, that is all.'

She looked at him, not believing him for a moment, but his eyes pleaded her to leave it alone, so with a forced smile of her own she got up to open the curtains fully.

'I will go to the children.' she said a moment later. 'Will we see you at breakfast?'

'Undoubtedly.' said Aragorn, and this time the smile was real. 'I cannot but think that all the time I have spent with hobbits has increased my appetite.'

'Indeed,' said Arwen, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. 'Well, Master Perian, I shall be sure to tell the cook to provide mushrooms.' And with that she swept out of the room.

'Good morning, sweet sister.' said Aragorn quietly as she left. 'For ever so you shall be to me.'


End file.
